


Strings

by Veeran



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Alternate Timelines, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Get ready for angst, I Will Go Down With This Ship, M/M, NOTHING IS AS IT SEEMS, Slow Burn, Timeline What Timeline, get ready for insanity, shame what shame, spoilers for the game, this is flirting?, what could possibly go wrong, what happens at leblanc stays at leblanc
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-21
Updated: 2017-12-24
Packaged: 2019-01-01 06:11:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12150333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Veeran/pseuds/Veeran
Summary: I had strings but now I’m free.There are no strings on me.------In which Akira and Akechi step into each other's shoes, so to speak.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hihazuki](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hihazuki/gifts).



> Big thanks to Tiffany N for being my beta ( I LUV U GIRL)
> 
> HAPPY BIRTHDAY SISSY!  
> Will this fic actually be finished by your birthday? The world may never know. 
> 
> ANYWAYS I LOVE YOUR FACE. I hope you like it!
> 
> Disclaimer: Persona 5 is not mine, sadly.

_A warning_

_To the people,_

_The good and_

_The evil._

_This is War._

________________

        Akira Kurusu was going to die.

        The moment that the doorknob turned, he knew. But he didn’t understand. Sae had taken the phone, so _why-_

        The door opened.

        The guard walked in first, and stopped adjacent to the door with his hands clasped behind him. Poor guy didn’t know what was about to happen. But there was nothing Akira could do for him now. Hell, there was nothing Akira could do for himself now.

        Akechi strode in after him. The picture of ease and confidence.       

        _Traitor. Traitor. Traitor._ The word bounced around in a loop inside his skull.

        Whispers floated back to him from a voice he didn’t know; a truly unjust game indeed.    

        He forced a look of confusion and surprise onto his face. _I will not be afraid._        

        He watched Akechi take the gun from the guard’s belt, so smoothly Akira figured he would have missed the movement if he hadn’t already been expecting it.

        The guard let out a strangled sound, horror dawning on his features, and reached out. “Wait! What’re you-“

        Too late.

        The gun’s explosion was muted, just a sickening _thunk_ across the room as the bullet embedded itself into the guard. The man dropped. Akira forced himself not to recoil. In truth, he’d never quite believed it. Sure, he heard the phone calls; but some tiny, desperate part of him had hoped and prayed that his teammate--his _friend--_ wasn’t capable of cold blooded murder.

         What a foolish error.       

        The guard lay in a heap on the floor. Akira stared at the blood beginning to pool. He fought the nausea threatening to force its way up his throat.

        Akechi turned to him. “I owe you for all of this. Thanks.”

        Akira suppressed a shiver, fighting to keep his face blank. That wasn’t the voice of his friend. It wasn’t the voice that shook after eating that incredibly spicy food at the school festival. It wasn’t the voice that doubled in pitch when he learned that Akira wasn’t a fan of pancakes. It wasn’t the voice that smiled and laughed with them when Ryuji thought it would be a good idea to steal the last piece of chocolate cake from Ann.

        It was the voice of a shell, completely hollow and empty, and so very, very sad.

        “That’s right. You and your little friends were vital to our plan. And now, it will be completed. Your popularity truly was quite stunning. That just made using you all the more worthwhile.”  

        “They were your friends too. Don’t pretend they weren’t.” The bite in his own tone surprised him.

        Akechi hesitated only for a split second, and Akira saw a bit of the mask crack. He replaced it in the space of a heartbeat, but it was enough.

        “Have you finally pieced it all together?” Such confidence in that voice, and yet Akira had just glimpsed the vulnerability hidden behind.

        He didn’t answer. _You have no idea._

        Then Akechi was standing in front of him. He felt the cold steel of the gun touch his forehead, and he became aware that he was already mind-numbingly cold. He shoved down the survival instincts that told him to leap up and fight. To run and never look back. There was no point now. The game was over. The plan had failed.  

        “Case closed,” Akechi murmured. “This is how your justice ends.”

        Akira gripped his knees to the point that his knuckles turned white. For the first time, he glimpsed the maniacal glint in Akechi’s eyes, the demon that lurked behind that too-white smile, the demented soul that slept just below the surface. A wolf in sheep’s clothing. How fitting.

        He thought of his friends. Ryuji, his best friend for so short a time, fiercely loyal and determined to never leave his side. Ann, whose kindness and compassion knew no bounds, who reminded him that everything--no matter how awful--always had some light in it. Yusuke, whose unique outlook on beauty and life constantly surprised him; he always knew how to lift his spirits, even when his depression was at its worst. Makoto, whose strength and courage kept him going, her sharp tongue and clever wit a welcome thread to his narrative. Futaba, the little sister he never had, with all her endearing quirks and oddities, who braved the darkness of her past and prevailed, proving that a light really did exist at the end of the tunnel. Haru, who had nerves of steel, yet somehow managed to be as gentle as a kitten, who reminded him that strength could come in any shape and size, and that faith in yourself and your friends could move mountains. Morgana, the cat that started it all. All his persistent nagging and relentless training; he forced Akira to believe in himself, to believe in others.

        He thought of Sojiro, Mishima, Iwai, Takemi, Kawakami, Sae, Chihaya, Yoshida, Shinya, Hifumi, and Ohya.

        They were going to change the world.

        He heard the rustle of Akechi’s finger on the trigger, and in the moment it took for the gun to fire, he thought that perhaps, he had a good life. Daring heists, friends that would last well beyond his death, the small difference he’d made in the world. The hope he’d brought the people of this city… even if it was only for a short while. Yes, a good life.

        _I will not be afraid._

        The world exploded. A kaleidoscope of colors ripped through his brain, deafening sounds and swirling images and pain and fear and exhilaration-- He was free. He was flying. Then, suddenly as it began, everything came to a screeching halt.

         He tumbled headlong into darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short, I know. BUT MORE WILL COME.
> 
> Also, I'm gonna slip a bunch of different fandom references into this work, props if you can catch all of them!
> 
> Lyrics are from ["This is War"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2q-Ps-OD_1w) by Thirty Seconds to Mars


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOW I'm so surprised with all of this!! I never imagined y'all would like it this much! Thank you all so much!
> 
> This chapter was a long one, but it was a blast to write!
> 
> THANK YOU TIFF YOU KEEP ME SANE. Big props to you for helping a ton with this chapter!
> 
> I hope you love it, Sissy!

     

_When you feel my heat,_

_Look into my eyes,_

_It's where my demons hide._

_Don't get too close,_

_It's dark inside._

_It's where my demons hide._

________________________________________

       He thought that dying would be more peaceful.

       Akechi had blown his brains out, after all. There was no way anyone could survive that. Even the leader of the notorious Phantom Thieves.

       But, if he was dead, how could he still think? How could he feel the cold, the dark pressing in on him? Would his eyes be straining in the blackness? Would he ache all over?

       Maybe he was in hell. Or... heaven. No. No, no, not plausible. Someone with his rap sheet would never make it to the golden gates. And if he did, it would only be for God to laugh at him before kicking his ass all the way back down into the pits of hell.

       He’d likely be haunted by all the shadows of everyone they’d ever defeated. Eternal damnation, endless suffering: the whole shebang.

       Who knew, maybe hell wouldn’t be so bad. At least he’d never be cold.

       Ryuji would roll his eyes at him for making a joke like that.

       His senses were starting to come back to him now. Disorientation began to fade. Sounds, muffled at first, leaked into his awareness. They almost sounded like voices, murmuring words that he couldn’t make out.  Smell came next. Something warm, familiar, and comforting, but his sluggish brain couldn’t figure out what it was. Taste followed. His mouth was dry, and he detected the faintest trace of blood.

       He became aware of a surface under him; cold and smooth, hard beneath his body.

       “Hey Kurusu, wake up.”

       Something poked him in the dead center of his forehead, right where the bullet had landed.

       Akira’s eyes flew open. He jolted upright, breaths coming in gasps. He felt cold and clammy; he could still feel the bullet on his skin. His hand shot to his forehead. The skin was smooth; his searching fingers found no trace of the wound that killed him.

       “Don’t scare him too bad, Ryuji. If he cracks his head open on the counter, I’m done for.”

       “Relax, Goro. He’s fine, see?” He heard Ryuji’s muffled snicker.

       Akira blinked, trying to think past the blinding pain in his head. He was alive. He was breathing. His friends were alive. It wasn’t over. They still had time. The game was still going.

       He realized that he was in Leblanc, sitting in the middle booth. Ann leaned over him on his left, Yusuke hovering on his right. Ryuji, Akechi, and Makoto sat across from him. Haru and Futaba had pulled stools from the bartop and sat perched at the end of the table. Morgana was curled up on the far end of the table, closest to the window. Books and papers were strewn across the tabletop, along with empty plates and half full coffee mugs.

       No wonder it had smelled familiar. Even the dead would remember the smell of Sojiro’s coffee and curry combo.

       “You alright, Kurusu?” He looked up, startled to find Akechi addressing him with a smile. The boy who had killed him moments ago. “You dozed off there.”

       “I… I, uh--” He spluttered, trying to understand _what in the hell_ was going on. Could the whole thing have been a dream? No, the pounding in his head and the ice in his bones said otherwise. It had happened. He had died. Akechi had murdered him. So what was happening here?

       “You must be really tired if you’re already dozing off,” Makoto remarked, without taking her eyes off the textbook in front of her, “We’ve only been here a little over an hour.”

       Akira wracked his brain and ran his hand through his already messy hair, trying to think of anything to help him gain footing. Why was Akechi here? Why was everyone acting like this is normal? Hell, Morgana usually refused to be within a five foot radius of the guy and now he was curled up right next to him.

       “I-I apologize.” He finally forced out, cracking a smile that was too wide, too bright. “I was up late last night.”

       Ryuji snorted. “Whatever you say, Kurusu-- _Ow.”_

       Akira glanced over just in time to see Ann glaring at Ryuji; she’d probably kicked him under the table.

       Odd. Ryuji never called him by his surname, not even when they first met. Something was definitely off.

       “Well, actually,” he said, thinking fast. “I am tired. If none of you mind, I may turn in early tonight.” He winced at the formal sound of his voice. He could’ve sounded a little more convincing.

       Akechi waved a hand with an easy grin. “Of course. You probably have lots of case files to look over, huh?”

       What?

       “Yes, something like that.” He found himself standing. He also realized he had a briefcase in his left hand, with a large black K adorned on the side. Where had he gotten that? It couldn’t be his; ostentatious wasn’t his style. But everyone was looking at him expectantly. So, trying to look as unruffled as possible, he placed the papers inside and snapped the case shut.

       He was at the foot of the stairs when Futaba stopped him.

       “Yo, Kurusu, where are you going?” Her eyes narrowed as she glared at him from her perch, like a hawk spying a mouse.

       “I-”

       “Oh, yeah. Don’t go up there please,” Akechi said cheerfully, although his eyes widened slightly. “My room is a huge mess. I haven’t had the time to clean it.”

_Pause. Rewind. Play. Process. His room?_

       He must have looked quite dumbfounded because Haru stepped in, looking wary, “Kurusu-kun, are you feeling alright?”

       Ann nodded, “Yeah, you look really pale.”

       No, he was most certainly _not_ feeling alright. _And why were they all being so bloody formal?_

       “I-I think I just need a good night’s sleep, is all.”  

       He stiffly walked back towards the table. His brain was in overdrive, the wheels were spinning so fast that he could barely keep up. Something was very, very wrong.

       They all regarded him with watchful eyes, like he was a stranger who’d just barged into their midst.

       Morgana had gotten up and perched at the edge of the table, eyeing him with narrowed eyes. His collar that usually changed into the bandana he always wore in the metaverse around his neck was gone. That was odd; he never went anywhere without that thing.

       Without thinking, Akira reached out. “Hey, Morgana, your-”

       Morgana leapt back with a loud yowl, hackles raised. “Don’t touch me!”

       Akira snatched his hand back.

       The table had gone eerily quiet. Morgana climbed up Akechi’s shoulder, glaring at Akira with bared teeth.  

       “I don’t trust him,” he hissed.

      Akira stared at him, flabbergasted. “Morgana? It’s me. What’s the matter?”

       There was a beat of silence, then Akechi coughed a little, running a hand over Morgana’s ears. “Ah...I’m sorry about that,” he said sheepishly to Akira, “Morgana is a bit...hesitant around people he doesn’t know well.”

       Okay, now something was seriously wrong. He understood Morgana’s speech as usual, but everyone else seemed to believe that all he heard was a cat hissing at him. A voice in the back of his mind whispered: _tread carefully. Take it in stride._

      “No, it’s my fault,” he said. “I shouldn't have moved so suddenly. Er, I should be on my way anyway. Thank you for the invitation; I hope we can do it again sometime.” Where were these words coming from?

       The door to the cafe opened with a jingle, and the tension dissolved as Sojiro appeared. Akira couldn’t help but be relieved.

      “Alright, everyone,” he called in his usual gruff tone once he approached thm, “Shops closing, time to go.”

       There was a chorus of “awws” and a “But I haven’t finished my curry!” from Ryuji.

       Sojiro chuckled. “Sorry kids, but you,” He pointed to Akechi, “said you’d open early tomorrow, so off to bed. And you,” he pointed to Futaba, “have tutoring in the morning. Bed, now.”

       Akechi held up his hands in mock surrender, while Futaba let out a whine and mumbled something about how sleep was for the weak.

       Akira was rooted to the spot. He couldn’t get his brain to process the words.

_Hang on. I’m the one who opens early. I’m the one who tells people to stay out of my messy room._

       A frightening thought sliced through his confusion. Was this hell? Was this what happened after Akechi put a bullet in his head? Their roles were reversed. Had he lost his place, only to be replaced by someone else? Was this how he was doomed to spend eternity?

       Sojiro turned to him. His eyes were strangely distant. “You may be a detective prodigy, but you’re still a kid. Go home, and get some sleep.”

       It took every fiber of his being not to scream. _What’s happening?! Why are you all acting this way?! It’s me. ME._

       Instead, he mumbled a toneless, “Yes, Sir.”

       They were still eyeing him, like he had sprouted a second head. Futaba was glaring daggers. Ann and Haru looked uncomfortable, Ryuji had an eyebrow raised, Yusuke was full on staring, and Makoto was finding the floor incredibly interesting.

       Only Akechi appeared unfazed. He shot Akira another polite smile and waved as he headed up the stairs, Morgana on his heels. “See you later, Kurusu!”

       The next thing Akira knew, he was standing outside of Leblanc, the door locked behind him and the porch light off.

 _________________ 

        It took him over an hour to discover where ‘home’ was. After switching trains three times, trying to see if anything felt familiar, he simply asked the navigation app on his phone, the one without the glowing red icon; to take him home. He mentally smacked himself for not thinking of it sooner.

        Turned out home was a small but expensive-looking apartment complex near Shibuya. His finger trailed down the list of names in the directory until coming to a stop beside his: apartment number 108.

        The complex itself seemed nice. Big open windows, grey leather couches, and a pristine elevator. The whole place was scrubbed spotless. Morgana would have been complaining loudly at this point, stating that it was _too clean._

        Silence greeted his thoughts.

       With a heavy sigh, Akira stopped in front of the door. It was rather plain looking, large and dark brown, with a silver plate on the front. He fumbled with the keys he’d found in his pocket. Four unsuccessful tries later, the door opened and he trudged inside, weariness bleeding into every muscle.

       He found the light switch easily. A hallway opened into a small living room. Large windows covered most of the far wall. A large flat screen TV sat at the wall adjacent to the windows, with a good sized coffee table and leather couch in front of it, with a small bookshelf to the left of the flatscreen. Across from that was a tiny kitchen, complete with refrigerator, dishwasher, a small sink, some cabinets, and a small table. Another hallway extended from the living room, leading to a bathroom and bedroom. Everything had cold, dull tones: white carpet, gray walls, gray couch. The whole apartment seemed sterilized. So clean, it appeared void of any personal touch.

       Akira walked through the little apartment, taking in everything with as little reaction as possible. Magazines and coasters sat on the coffee table, beside the remotes to the TV. The buttons had collected a fine layer of dust. He walked through the kitchen. Through the bedroom. There was barely anything in the fridge, the bathroom had the necessities, and the bed looked like it hadn't been slept in in months. The only relatively used-looking part of the whole apartment was the couch, which had a pillow and blanket thrown carelessly atop it.

       It felt so utterly _wrong_. His attic room in Leblanc had been dirty and messy, but it had become his home during the months he spent there. This place was simply for show. A plastic display intended to discourage outsiders from looking too closely.

       He hated it. But right now, it was all he had. He dropped the briefcase on the couch and made his way to the bathroom, pausing when he noticed his reflection in the mirror.

       He was almost unrecognizable. His hair was still black and curly, and his eyes were still the same shade of grey. But the air about was different; darker. His skin was waxy and sallow, and the bags under his eyes stood out more than anything else. And when he smiled, it was almost predatory, and oozed with a kind of television-stained charm.

       He rubbed his eyes and yawned. He tried to smile genuinely, and his reflection almost frightened him.

       He was jerked out of his thoughts by the phone his pocket. It buzzed like an angry insect. He pulled it out and frowned at the caller ID. Not a number he recognized. But after today, it was hardly a surprise. He lifted it to his ear.

       “Hello?”

       “Is it done?”

       That voice was sharply familiar, but he couldn’t place it. Before he could scramble for a response, the words came to him. Eerie and taciturn, they flowed without a hint of emotion. “There were complications. I need more time.”

        “I hope I do not need to emphasize the importance of this assignment. You have one week. Do not fail me, or the consequences will be severe.”

        The line went dead.

        Okay. One week. How long was that in hell?

        The deeper the pit in his stomach grew, the more sure Akira became that this was no longer his world. It was a sickening, backwards mirror of the real one-- only his position had been reversed with that of his own killer. But was that even possible? He supposed that if the metaverse existed, then anything was possible.

         Whoever the voice at the other end of the phone belonged to, they obviously held a high position of power. His gut told him it was the man Akechi answered to back in his world. Which meant that this ‘assignment’ was an assassination.

         Which made Akira the hitman.

         He lowered the phone to his pocket, slipping it back inside. His hands trembled. He couldn’t kill anyone. Not like this. But it was clear that if he didn’t, his life would be forfeit.

         Who was this target? He made his way back to the living room and snapped open the briefcase. He leafed through file folders and miscellaneous papers until he found what he was looking for: a laptop. Surprisingly, it didn't require a password. Odd. Akechi must never let the thing out of his sight.

          He snooped around its contents, only to come up empty handed. There was nothing on the hard drive to suggest anything other than a regular student laptop. He would give anything to have Futaba with him at this moment.

          With a frustrated groan, he closed the laptop and placed it forcefully it back into the briefcase. _Clunk._

          The sound drew his attention. If that had been the bottom of the case, it would have made a hollow thump. A false bottom, perhaps? Akira carefully patted down the inside of the case. Sure enough, with a little extra force, the bottom popped right out.

          A single file folder sat in the bottom of the case. Akira felt his breath catch.

         On top of the folder was a gun. The same gun that had been pointed at his head only hours before. He gently pulled at the folder, careful to not touch the weapon. When he opened it, realization dawned. Of course it. It just had to be him.

         He quickly returned the false bottom to the briefcase, slammed it shut, and shoved it away from him. He stood shakily, and made his way back to the bathroom.

         He shuddered over the sink, and splashed cold water onto his face, telling himself to get a grip. He looked up. His terrified reflection stared back at him.

         He was still alive? But how? Akira had seen him die. Did this strange world somehow send him back in time?

         Kunikazu Okumura. That was his assignment. Haru’s father, CEO of Okumura foods, slavedriver, political candidate, murderer.

         But would it be so terrible? Okumura was a stain upon Japan. He was corrupt; a sniveling, pathetic coward who leeched off of anyone who willing to do him a kindness. He took advantage of others, feigned ignorance of their pain, and thoroughly snuffed out anyone who got in his way. _Now it was his turn to die._

         Akira’s head throbbed. No. This wasn’t like killing in the metaverse. This was cold-blooded murder. When they took out the shadows there, they simply vanished. They weren’t real. They were cognitions. This would be ending a life, a real life. Ripping away a father from his daughter. He couldn’t kill the father of one of his closest friends.

_Friends; what a beautiful lie. Is that what they are supposed to be?_ In this world, he had no friends. The Phantom Thieves didn’t care about him; they looked at him like an outcast. No one knew him, the real him. They liked the charismatic detective, the facade that walked and talked with a smile. They didn’t like the real thing. No one ever liked the real thing.

         He would prove them wrong. Every single one who looked down upon him, like he was nothing more than the dirt beneath their shoes. They would pay. However, he himself didn’t have the luxury to concern himself with all of them. Only one truly mattered. And he would never see him coming.

_No._ He would not become Akechi. He would not--

        His skull felt like it was splitting at the seams. All of these emotions churning inside of him; rage, despair, grief, disgust, terror, envy, pride, malice. Memories that weren’t his own charged into his brain. Foster homes, abusive parents, starvation, isolation, everything channeling into his soul at breakneck speed.

        He crumpled to the bathroom floor, clutching his head. _Make it stop. Anything to make it stop!_

        And then it was all _so funny_. No wonder Akechi had gone mad, with all of these memories and feelings bottled up inside of him. But Akira couldn’t afford to lose his sanity. No. If his world was still out there -- and he had a strong notion that this, indeed, was not hell, but some twisted alternate reality -- he had to get back to it. He had to find his friends, and stop Akechi. Before he did anything worse.

_Worse than killing me._

         He raked his hands over his face. A frenzied laugh tore out of his throat, rebounding off the walls. He couldn’t get their faces out of his head. They hadn’t even known him, hadn’t even cared. After everything he’d done for them, risking his life to help with their pitiful problems… why should he bother protecting them? Why was it always _his_ job to protect them? If they didn’t care, now was his chance. He could disappear into this world, vanish without a trace, and leave them to their fates--

        Akira heaved himself up to the sink. He met his shocked gray eyes in the mirror. The deranged grin slowly slipped from his face. When had he started crying? Why was he thinking these awful things? He would never hurt them. His friends meant everything to him.

        He was going insane.

        They’d conquered everything together. Weathered impossible odds. He loved his friends. They were all he had in the world. Could one bullet to the head really erase everything he believed?

        Another convulsive laugh escaped him. The irony was simply too much to ignore. They’d survived so many alternate realities, so many dire situations, yet here he was, collapsing after the first hours in an exceptionally disturbing alternate reality. He stared at his reflection.

        A flash of madness, a gleam of hysteria, glinted behind his eyes.

        He reached up to touch his face, suddenly intrigued. What was he becoming? He realized that he was wearing gloves. With a furious yank, he tore them from his hands and hurled them across the room, as far away from him as possible. Was he turning into Akechi? If he’d truly slipped into Akechi’s shoes, how long would it take to slip into Akechi’s black hole?

        For him to be consumed by this bitterness and hatred?

       Akira took a deep breath. _Your friends. Think of your friends._

       But as he looked into the mirror, his friends weren’t there. He was completely and utterly alone.

_I am not alone. Goro Akechi is alone. He may be in my place, but that is NOT his place. I am loved. I belong. I have a family…_

       If he was going to win this game, he’d have to constantly remind himself of his real identity. Even though he seemed to have Goro’s memories and emotions, he was not him. He could play out his moves, talk like him, act like him. He would go along with this hellish ride just enough to quell anyone’s suspicions. He could keep his head down until he found a solution. However, maybe he could bend the rules… just enough to keep himself from disappearing entirely.

       Akira dragged a hand over his exhausted face and watched his reflection do the same. He could, no, he _would_ survive. He had a long way to go, and an almost impossible battle to fight. Fucking unjust game indeed.

       The man in the mirror was crying. And he wondered if maybe, just maybe, he and Goro weren't so different after all.

_Mirror, Mirror, on the wall. Who is the most_ **_tragic_ ** _of us all?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Told you it was long. Hoped it lived up to expectations!
> 
> Lyrics at the beginning are from ["Demons"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GFQYaoiIFh8) by Imagine Dragons.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS IS SO EXCITING I'M SO HAPPY YOU GUYS LIKE IT. 
> 
> This fic is quickly absorbing my life ngl, but I'm moving soon, so it may be a bit before the next update, I'M SORRY.
> 
> I've also decided to add song lyrics to the top of every chapter kind of like a hint of what's coming, or just because it fits the mood. Just cause I wanted to be extra LOL so if you haven't seen the ones I added to the previous chapters, might wanna take a look! 
> 
> Or you don't have to pay attention to them at all, whatever floats your boat.
> 
> TIFF, I LOVE YOU I WOULDN'T BE HERE WITHOUT YOU.
> 
> ANYWAYS HERES CHAPTER 3

_It's hiding in the dark,_

_It's teeth are razor sharp._

_There's no escape for me,_

_It wants my soul,_

_It wants my heart._

_No one can hear me scream,_

_Maybe it's just a dream._

_Or maybe it's inside of me,_

_Stop this Monster!_

___________________________________

 

      Akira didn’t have to open his eyes to know where he was. The chill in the air, the heavy cold biting into his wrists, and the eerie quiet that seemed to swallow him. He had become a little too familiar with the Velvet Room over the course of his Phantom Thief career.

      He opened his eyes to the familiar prison cell. His tattered clothes seemed even more ragged. He stood, and his shackles clanked together, echoing in the harsh silence. Caroline and Justine stood at both sides of the bars, as per usual. Igor grinned from his desk in the center. It seemed identical to the Velvet Room in his world. Some things never changed. It was almost reassuring.

      “Inmate!” Caroline barked, banging her baton against the bars, “Our Master-” She paused suddenly and cocked her head, staring intently at him.

      “But that’s impossible…” Justine mused, wide-eyed, peering at him through the bars.

      They both remained speechless, staring at him with something akin to wonder. He shuffled uncomfortably under their gaze. He’d never managed to shock them into silence before; this must be a record.

      They remained silent for several moments, their eyes boring into him. Until Caroline extended her baton through the bars and jabbed him hard in the stomach.

      He recoiled as far as his chains would allow. “ _Ow!_ What was that for?!”

      “But… how?” Caroline whispered, continuing to prod at him.

      “It’s completely preposterous.” Justine answered, pressing her face to the bars.  

      Akira had to admit that the incredulous look on both their faces would have been comical if their disbelief weren’t so worrying. If they were shocked or unnerved by him, then he had to be right. This wasn’t his world.

      “That’s enough, girls.” Igor’s deep voice filled the prison, immediately gathering all attention. Akira looked to him then, and to his complete astonishment, Igor stood and walked to the cell.

      Akira had never seen him from the below the chest. He honestly hadn’t expected him to be so skinny. The old man was little more than bones. His unsettling appearance grew even more disturbing as he neared. He stopped just before the bars, hands clasped behind his back, and leaned forward to the point where Akira had to lean back or risk having Igor’s long nose collide with his face.

      “How interesting,” Igor mused, his large eyes burning holes in him. “You are you, but you are not you. How could this be?”

      “I was hoping you could tell me.” Akira was at least pleased that his voice didn’t shake. “This isn’t my world.”

      “Your world,” Igor repeated, grin still in place. “What makes you believe this is not your world?”

      Akira’s hands tightened around the bars. “This isn’t my life. Everything is backwards. My friends don’t recognize me. I’m not the leader of the Phantom Thieves.”

      “Hmmm. Be that as it may, there is only one world.”

_No, no, no. That’s not possible._

      “But Master,” Caroline interjected nervously. “This is not the inmate we know.”

      “True, there are many beings that belong to one soul. This one is different than the one we know because this is not when he belongs.”

      Akira was accustomed to Igor answering in riddles. But he seemed interested now, so this might be the only time Akira would get a straight answer.

      “Then…, wait, ‘when’ I belong!?”

      Igor’s cheshire grin got bigger. “It is true, there is only one world.” He returned to his desk, and placed his hands under his chin, watching Akira with interest. “However, the timelines of the world are infinite.”

_Timelines?_ “What do you mean?”

     “Time is a peculiar phenomenon. It flows in every direction and never stops.”

_Damn riddles._ “You mean there’s more than one timeline that I exist in?”

      “Time is constant. It is absolute. It has no beginning and no end. You exist in time, therefore you exist in every variation of time.”

      Akira’s head was beginning to hurt again. “So...you’re saying that that there is more than one timeline… and that the one I'm from is only one of many? This isn't my timeline?”

      “Correct.” Igor gave a low chuckle. “And it seems that you have somehow deviated from your timeline. An impressive feat indeed.”

      Akira didn’t answer at first. He struggled to wrap his mind around it all. None of it made any sense. There were too many inconsistencies, too many unpredictable variables. “How did I get here?”

      “That is something I haven’t yet uncovered. Timelines run parallel, never converging, but still connected all the same.”

      “What happened to the me that belongs to this timeline?”

      Something sparked behind Igor’s eyes as he leaned forward. “That is something I find most intriguing. It seems that the two beings have merged, creating an entirely new entity. Such an act is unheard of in all my time as master of this place.”

      Akira’s head was pulsing. He let out a groan and massaged his temples. When the pain subsided enough, he asked, “What happens when I return to my timeline?”

      Igor’s grin loosened a notch. “I cannot say. I do not know how you came to this timeline, but returning to your own may prove to be impossible.” Akira’s stomach lurched, panic beginning to take root. Igor continued, “However, should you succeed, your rehabilitation shall prove most enlightening.”

      “Great.” Akira mumbled. He was hoping that Igor would have a solid answer. “Does...does this mean I’m stuck in this place?”

      “That is for you to discover.”

      Akira held in his sigh. At least this all proved that he wasn’t stuck in hell. Igor interrupted his thoughts with a grave murmur, “I shall warn you, trickster, that time is fickle. You must be cautious. If you make too big a change, the effect of this change will ripple throughout all of time itself.”

_Don’t fuck up the timelines. Got it._

      “But, how should I...”

      “Time to go, inmate!” Akira jumped at the sound of Caroline’s voice. He had almost forgotten the twins were right on the other side of the bars.

      “I’m not done,” he protested.

      “Too bad. You need to sleep!” Caroline rapped her baton against the bars.

      “Time is up.” Justine said quietly, “Return to reality, fix the damage that has been done. This you must do if your rehabilitation is to be completed.” She paused, and he swore it seemed like she was giving him a warning, ”Awful things happen to those who meddle with time.”

______________________________________

      Akira checked his watch, it was after noon. He had slept in. Not that it really mattered. It seemed that he didn’t have school, which surprised him. Akechi was always talking about school back in his timeline. But now that Akira put thought into it, he realized that Akechi had never mentioned the name of this school. And after digging through the apartment for an hour and finding no trace of a school ID, enrollment papers, or anything of the sort, he realized it was probably a front advised by whomever he’d spoken with on the phone last night.

      He also realized that he had not only switched timelines, but he that he had actually gone back in time, which explained how Okumura was still alive. When Akira had died, it had been sometime in late October. When he checked the date today, it had read October 3rd. It bothered him that he couldn’t remember the date he’d been captured in the metaverse. It was the day that the plan had been put into action. They were going to catch Akechi in the act; how could he forget something so important?

      Okay. So the past was not the past, but the future, and his past was nonexistent. Which meant his present was… what, exactly? Why did everything have to be so damn complicated?

      However, if he was correct, Morgana should have taken off and already reconciled with the group… if the timelines were indeed the same. He remembered being worried sick about the cat.  He also remembered being rather irritated with the whole situation. Morgana’s tantrum had cost them time, and time was precious. But if Morgana hadn’t been upset, they never would have gained their final member. Haru was an important aspect to their team, and they likely would’ve never made it as far as they did without her.

      She was also his friend. He wouldn’t forget that, even if she had.

      Akira threw on his shoes, ran his hands through his sleep-tousled hair, and headed for Leblanc. If there was any way to know for sure, it’d be to catch them at the hideout or wheedle it out of Sojiro. The Phantom Thieves often disappeared for long hours during the day when infiltrating a palace. If they’d been gone long, Sojiro should know. And, if Akira’s calculations were correct, they should be about halfway through Okumura’s palace by now.

      The bell jingled as he opened the door. His muscles relaxed against his will as the familiar scent engulfed him. No matter where or when he was, this place would always be home.

      He sat at the counter on the stool closest to the door. Sojiro gave him a curt welcome and made his coffee quickly, setting it down with a sharp _clink_ in front of him.

      Akira couldn’t blame him for the terse service. If he really was in Akechi’s place, then no doubt he wasn’t Sojiro’s favorite customer.

      He replayed Igor’s conversation over in his mind as he waited. The cryptic tidbits about timelines and parallel universes made some sense. Although he didn’t grasp the finer details, the point was clear. Something had triggered this change. Despite Igor’s claims to ignorance, Akira had a hunch the old man was hiding something. In crossing into this timeline, what happened to him in his original world? Had he truly died? Or had his friends somehow pulled off the plan? Akira remembered the bullet tearing through his vision. He winced. There was no way his friends could have saved him after that. Akechi killed him. So what had happened to the others?

      He was so absorbed in his thoughts that he didn’t hear the door open. Sojiro’s welcome sounded far away, and Akira didn’t realize Akechi had started speaking to him until the other boy appeared out of nowhere, waving a hand in front of his face.

      He swallowed his surprise. “My apologies.” His voice came out formal, yet again. “I didn’t see you there.”

      Akechi smiled and took a seat on the stool next to him. “Honestly Kurusu, you’ve gotta get more sleep or something.”

_Sleep isn’t restful._ “I assure you, I’m fine.”

      “Whatever you say.” Akechi’s smile widened as he took a cup of coffee from Sojiro. He took a deep sip, and turned back to Akira. “Spaciness aside, I’m glad you seem mostly back to normal. You were really out of it yesterday.”

_Think fast._ “Yes, I wanted to apologize for that once again. I don’t know what came over me.” Movement caught his attention. Akechi’s bag shifted as Morgana poked his head out. He caught sight of Akira and sniffed in disdain before retreating back into the bag.

      Akira shoved down the sudden pang of envy and sadness.

      “Hey, don’t sweat it.” Akechi’s voice took on a more serious tone. “As long as we’re good, right?”

_Shit. Did he suspect him_? “Of course,” Akira replied quickly. “I hope you don’t mind me stopping by so frequently.” The smile slid from his face. “This is one of the few places where I can really relax.”

      “You’re always welcome here. I hope you know that.”

_Liar._ “Thank you, Akechi. It means a lot.”

      Suddenly, it hit him. What better way to change fate than to befriend this new leader of the Phantom Thieves? By sticking close to this new Akechi, Akira could learn what he knew, and how this strange timeline worked. It would also coincide with his original timeline. That had to be it. Akechi was the key.

      But at the same time, it would be _so easy_ to tip the scales. All it took was one unfortunate accident, just one breath of hesitation… But no, killing this Akechi wouldn't help him get back to his timeline, but he couldn't deny that the chance to give his murderer a taste of his own medicine was _very_ appealing. And although his gut twisted at the satisfaction it gave him to know that he _could_ do it if he wished, he knew it would be far better to slowly gather information, to bide his time until the moment was right.

      But if they truly had switched places, this was not the Akechi that he knew. This one was innocent, with less homicidal tendencies. Which made Akira himself the evil one. Bitterness surged through him, and the monster gnashed its teeth. He took a deep breath, and offered the boy next to him a charming smile. This was going to be fun.

      “W-well,” Akechi said after a moment, surprising Akira when the tips of his ears turned slightly red. “The others are going to be here soon, and I’ve got homework to do, so I’ll see you later, yeah?”

      Had he always done that when he was nervous? It was unexpectedly endearing. Akira nodded. “Of course, I should be going too. Will you be here tomorrow?”

      Akechi blinked. “Ah...of course. I close tomorrow for Sojiro, he’s taking Futaba out for dinner.”

_That means they won’t be at the palace tomorrow._ “Excellent. Then it’s a date.”

      Akechi choked on his coffee, “E-Excuse me?” The blush moved from his ears to his face as he hastily set down his coffee mug.

      Akira smirked and winked at him. “Relax, I’m only kidding...mostly.”

      He didn’t think it was possible, but Akechi turned an even darker shade of red. Akira held in a laugh, what an interesting reaction. He’d have to remember this.

      “Uh--right. Not a date,” Akechi stammered. He stood abruptly, almost knocking over his mug. His voice was higher pitched than usual, “I’ll, uh, see you tomorrow I guess.”

      Akira grinned. Hook, line and sinker. “See you!” He shot him another wink as he hurried out the door.

      He finally released his laugh when the door shut behind him. This timeline was proving to be amusing. Now he just had to tease out the meaning behind his appearance in this strange world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there's a few explanations at least. Did you catch the Harry Potter reference?
> 
> Lyrics are from ["Monster"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u9NStVkSCuk) by Skillet.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so blown away by all of the support that this fic is getting! I know I say this almost every time, but I'm so so so happy that you guys like this. 
> 
> I know it's been a while since my last update. I got all moved into my new place and am now slowly drowning in homework. RIP.
> 
> THANK YOU TIFF FOR ALL YOUR HELP. YOU'RE THE BEST BETA A GIRL COULD ASK FOR.
> 
> SISSY I HOPE YOU LOVE IT.
> 
> CHAPTER 4 HAS FINALLY ARRIVED/// please excuse my late ass

_"Promise me some dignity_

_If I were to stand and die here,_

_'Cause my heart is somewhere else,_

_It's a pain I've never felt._

 

_Time's racing (please slow down)_

_I've gotta find my way out._

_I'm hopeless (but hoping)_

_My lungs won't fail me now,_

_'Cause I'm still breathing_

* * *

       Akira glanced at his watch as he darted into the train. He aimed to be at Leblanc a little after six. Which gave him approximately four hours to slip into Okumura’s palace for a little reconnaissance. He needed to discover how close the Phantom Thieves were to the treasure, in order for him to preserve the timeline. Shido had given him a week to eliminate the target. But this time, Akira was determined to save him. Despite all his wrongs, he didn’t believe that Kunikazu Okumura deserved to die.

      Four hours should be enough to see how far they’d gotten, if he kept his head down and didn’t run into trouble. Regular shadows he could handle well enough. But he didn’t want to risk drawing the attention of Okumura’s shadow. Best to remain hidden for now. 

      He had returned to the Velvet Room this morning, much to the indignation of the twins. He discovered that he’d somehow retained the majority of his personas, to his immense relief. He’d made some adjustments, and then returned to reality. After stocking up on supplies, which had taken some convincing when it came to Takemi, he was ready. 

      He stood in front of Okumura’s building. The massive structure rose towards Tokyo’s skyline. His finger hovered over the metaverse app. It pulsed a glowing red. 

      He would be lying if he said he wasn’t nervous. He’d never actually entered and explored a palace by himself before. When he’d split from the group in Sae’s, it had been planned, and he’d still had the ability to speak with the others. Now, he was truly going in alone.

      He felt the familiar blast of cold air as the world before him shifted. The app didn’t require the keywords, he noted; this other version of him must’ve come here before. Part of him wanted all the memories of this timeline, the finer details that would help him play his part. All he had now were flashes and feelings, but nothing concrete. But the other part of him was thankful he didn’t, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to live with himself if he did.

      Another reassurance was that his phantom thief outfit was still the same. He tugged on his red gloves. This world was bad enough, but if he’d ended up with Akechi’s bold ensemble… he shuddered at the thought. Not that it didn’t work on the detective. It actually worked quite well. But to Akechi’s flair and flash, Akira’s style was sleek and dark. He liked to blend in, like the shadows he hunted.

      Okumura’s space station opened up before him. Akira stood still for a moment, taking in the new--yet painstakingly familiar--surroundings. 

      Nostalgia hit him. He could almost hear Morgana complaining; they were going too slow, and Ryuji would taunt him, and they’d bicker. Ann would tell them to knock it off. Haru would laugh. Makoto would roll her eyes. Futaba would ignore them, and prod at Yusuke, who would be staring at the station in awe, hands extended in front of him, framing everything.

      God, he missed them.

      But he didn’t have time to think about that now. He’d have to use the side entrance, as he didn’t have Haru’s genetics to get in the main door. And he’d really appreciate it if his stomach would stop doing somersaults. He couldn’t figure out why he was so nervous. He might not have the others to back him up, but he had to have at least decent abilities to be able to make it this far….right?

      He steeled himself. _I will not be afraid._

      Joker had work to do.

* * *

       Although the silence had been almost unbearable at first, he was getting used to it.

      It was odd without Futaba constantly buzzing in his ear, or Makoto feeding him information on the shadows. He was forced to rely on his own knowledge and skills. Needless to say, there had been a few close calls.

      He rolled his shoulders as he landed. Those airlocks felt just as surreal as they had the first time around. Not that he could complain, when else would he get the chance to fly through space without a suit? The child somewhere inside him was ecstatic.

      It would’ve been helpful to have a map too...But of course, the Phantom Thieves had the pieces of the map. It was a good thing he had a sharp memory. His senses prickled as he prowled down the hall. There must be a safe room nearby. Good. He really needed to rest. Even if only for a few minutes.

      Sure enough, it took him only a few moments to find. Once he was inside, he dropped onto one of the chairs and let out an exhausted sigh. He should’ve listened to Morgana; breaks were important. He massaged his throbbing shoulder. Without Makoto around, it had taken him ages to bring down a mithras shadow. He’d taken some heavy hits. His shoulder was going to hurt for a few days. 

      He caught sight of a backpack on the floor. It was propped up against the leg of the table he was sitting at. Without hesitation, he scooped it up and began rummaging around inside.  He didn’t understand it, but the backpack that had his supplies always appeared in all the safe rooms in this strange timeline. He never had to move it or anything; it simply arrived of its own accord. And if he ever took it out of a safe room, it would vanish, only to reappear on the table in the safe room he just vacated. He couldn’t remember this happening in his timeline. Yet in his timeline, they always had items dispersed amongst each other, and whoever wasn’t on the front lines always carried extra. So he hadn’t needed a backpack. It was one of the oddest things he encountered in this version of the metaverse, and the more he tried to understand it, the more puzzling it was. He decided not to question it.

      Akira bit into some of Sojiro’s curry that he’d saved from yesterday. It tasted like home. Slowly, he felt his strength returning. He cracked open a can of arginaid.

      It was so quiet. He could still hear the thrum of the palace, but it was mechanical. He was the only human here, the only one with a beating heart. He tried not to let it bother him.

      He wondered what the others were doing. Probably still in school, although he didn’t know for sure. It was hard to keep track of time in the metaverse. This would probably be the last floor he would cover for today, as it seemed like the Phantom Thieves hadn’t gotten this far yet. All of the shadows he faced seemed genuinely surprised to see only one thief, as they had been expecting more. He passed a few locked chests on his way as well, and it had taken the utmost restraint not to crack them open. 

      He rubbed the back of his neck, feeling exhaustion set in. Time to head back. Hopefully, he wasn’t late for the meeting with Akechi. He mentally went over the map of the palace in his head. The door to the right of the safe room should lead to the transfer line, and once he got past the two floors there, only the treasure should be left.

      He stood and stretched his aching muscles. He’d had his fair share of injuries in his timeline, but he never usually felt this dismal about them. Ryuji used to tell him that they were battle scars, and that it meant they had something worth fighting for. After all, it was only fun if you got a scar out of it. Akira hadn’t had the heart to disagree with him at the time. He had been so excited, said that it felt great to _finally_ be able to do _something._ Their scars became their trophies, Ryuji proudly holding the most of them. Hell, Ryuji could be missing a limb, but he’d parade around and tell them the glorified story of how he lost it.

      He smiled to himself. He’d have them all back again soon. Hell, they’d probably never believe him if he told them what happened. But yet...maybe they would, if they could get past the sheer absurdity of it all. He wasn’t even sure if he was past that point yet. 

      His hand was an inch from the door when he heard it. Strange noises. He withdrew his hand, frowning at the door. Was it a shadow? Shadow’s weren’t able to detect safe rooms...something about the distortion being weak? Then the sounds turned to voices.

      An alarming amount of information shot through his brain at rapid speed. The first was pure panic, and the rest mostly consisted of incredibly violent curses. _They weren’t supposed to be here today! Okay, okay, think, THINK. How do I get out of this?!_

      He hands flew to his hair as he scrambled to find a way out of this situation. They couldn’t discover him, not yet. That would ruin everything! All his planning. He clambered back from the door as the voices got louder. They were definitely headed this way. He fought the panic that coursed through him. He was cornered. As good as dead.

      There had to be a way out! He refused to go down like this. There had to be an escape route! Somewhere! His eyes darted around the room, looking for something, anything he could use. The voices were right outside the door now. He could make out words. With a muffled snarl, he dove behind the couch just as the door opened.

      There was a collective sigh of relief as the Phantom Thieves trooped inside.

      “Ah, we can finally rest our feet!” That was Ann’s voice.

      “About time too,” grumbled Ryuji. “Mine are killin’ me.”  

      Chairs scraped across the floor.

      “Hey we’ve come pretty far. We did good.” Makoto’s tired voice sounded from the far end of the table.

      “I agree,” Yusuke said solemnly.

      “We’re so close, I can feel it!” Haru exclaimed.

      Akira stopped breathing when someone dropped their weight onto the couch. He pushed himself closer to the floor, praying his thundering heartbeat wouldn’t give him away.

      “I think so too,” Futaba’s voice sang from the couch, “Based on the map we have of the palace, we’re _really_ close!”

      “You all did great!” Akechi said proudly. “The treasure has got to be close by!”

      “You don’t give yourself enough credit, man,” Ryuji replied. “The only way we got this far was because we’ve got you as our fearless leader!”

      Akira grit his teeth. Inside him, the monster howled and tore at its restraints. He closed his eyes and clenched his fists, fighting back the rage and rejection that burned in the pit of his stomach. He had to keep himself in check. One wrong move, one rash decision, was all it took. _But it should be me. I’m the one who got them this far! ME. I’m the one who fought my way through everything, I laid my life on the line for you. Akechi isn’t your leader; I am._

      “Hey, guys, what’s this?” Ann asked. It sounded like she had picked something up.

      “A backpack?” Ryuji said in confusion.

_Fuck. No, you can’t open that. It’s mine._ “Yes, we can see that.” Yusuke said curiously, “But the question is, how did it get here?”

      “Odd.” Makoto murmured. A brief pause followed. “I can’t get it open.”

      Akira quirked an eyebrow at that. His mind worked fast to figure out what was going on. He had his theory, but was it really possible? If the backpack was a part of his own cognition, even if the items inside were real, perhaps only he could open it? Interesting.

_I don’t need it anymore. I’m at full strength. I don’t need it. I don't need it. I don't need it._

      There was a squeal of shock and exclamations of surprise. “It’s gone!” Makoto cried.

      “What do you mean gone?” That was Akechi’s soft voice.

      “I don’t know…” Makoto said in a stunned tone. “I was holding it, but it just...vanished.”

      Akira grinned. Score. That little piece of information could be valuable in the future.

      As the others spoke, Akira felt Futaba’s weight shift on the couch. Her voice cut gently across the hum of the others. “Mona? You’ve been oddly quiet. You doing okay?”

      Morgana didn’t respond immediately. When he finally spoke, his voice had an uneasy edge to it. “I sense a presence here… and I don’t think it’s a shadow. I’m not sure what it is, but it’s in this room.”

      Everyone went quiet. Akira heard the telltale rustle of weapons being drawn. Futaba’s weight shifted on the couch, forward so Akira could tell she was sitting right on the edge of it.

      Akechi’s careful voice asked, “Is it harmful?”

      “I don’t know...”

      Akira felt the sharp edge of panic returning. How the hell was he supposed to get out without them noticing if Morgana could sniff him out? The footsteps were getting closer and closer.

_Shitshitshitshitshit._ “It’s coming from behind you, Futaba…”

      He was out of time. Could he use a persona in a safe room? Could he summon it nonverbally? Was any of this actually possible? He had no idea, but it was the only thing he could think of, and if he didn't move _now_ , then he would surely be caught.

_Sorry about this, Futaba._ He was fairly sure it wouldn’t hurt her. Just as Morgana stopped in front of the couch. Akira gripped the bottom of the couch with one hand and leapt up, flipping the couch and sending Futaba flying. He used the other hand to rip away his mask, and mentally roared as loud as possible, _Horus! Use your light!_

      For one terrifying second, he thought it had failed. But then a blinding, golden light erupted, surging through the room. The Phantom Thieves cried out and threw up their hands to shield their eyes.

      He ran for it. With Horus centered above him, he bounded over the couch and raced for the door.

      “What is it!? A shadow!?” Ryuji yelled. 

      “I don’t know!” Morgana shouted back, “but I think it’s going for the door!”

      “Stop it!” Akechi bellowed.

      “We can’t see it!” Makoto called back.

      Too late. The door opened with a loud _shoop!_ Akira sprinted into the hallway, Horus vanishing the instant the door shut behind him. He opened the door to the transfer line and then scaled the storage units directly across from the safe room. Hopefully, they would think he took off in that direction.

      A heartbeat later, the Phantom Thieves charged into the hallway, blinking in the sudden change of light. They stopped in front of the open door to the transfer line. “I think he went out that way!” Ryuji pointed.

      “It seems so...” Morgana said dubiously.

      “Was that thing a persona?” Ann asked.

      “I don’t know,” Akechi mused, deep in thought with a hand on his chin. “But whatever it was, it was incredibly strong. But it didn’t hurt us. It seemed afraid.”

_Go to hell you fucking traitor._ Akira fumed silently. He was not afraid. He could take any of them in a fight. Hell, he could take them all at once if he wanted to. He’d still come out on top.

      “I can’t find any trace of it on the scanners.” Futaba hammered away on her laptop. “Whatever it was, it’s gone now.”

      Akira hunkered down farther, peeking at them from behind the storage bins. He saw Ryuji stomp his foot and swing his hammer. “Well! What’re we standin around for!? Let’s go after it!”

      “Everyone’s exhausted, Ryuji,” Makoto said. “I think it would be better to regroup in Leblanc for now.”

  
      “Yeah, I’m with Makoto.” Ann yawned. “I’m really tired, plus Goro has a date later remember?”

      “It’s not a date,” Akechi snapped. “I have to find out what he knows. He can’t discover us. Otherwise everything would be ruined.”

      “Indeed.” said Yusuke thoughtfully. “All of our hard work would go to waste if Kurusu were able to ascertain our identities.”

      Ryuji snorted and rested his elbow on Akechi’s shoulder. “As if. That guy is so annoying… I wonder if he has a palace?”

      Makoto rolled her eyes, “We already checked, remember? He’s clean.”

      “Oh, right…”

      “Besides,” Haru said. “We all know Goro would never actually like a guy like that. He’s taking a bullet for all of us by hanging out with Kurusu, and it’s a smart way to get information. As long as he’s careful. Right, Goro?”.

      “Guys.” Akechi laughed. “You don’t have to worry. I’m just playing the game.”

      “Good!” said Futaba proudly, “Can we go now? I’m tired and Sojiro is taking me out for sushi, so I wanna gooo! But make sure to tell us what Kurusu says!”

      Akechi nodded.

      “Also make sure to bring leftovers!” Morgana chimed in.

      They all slowly trudged back into the safe room, chatting amongst themselves. The door shut behind them and Akira waited for several minutes before easing himself out of his hiding spot.

      He jumped and landed gracefully in front of the safe room. He stood with his hands in his pockets, staring at the door through narrowed eyes.

      He couldn’t deny the sting of what his friends had said about him. But he chose to embrace the challenge Akechi had inadvertently set down. So, the traitor thought he was playing him, huh? Akechi thought he had the upper hand? Well, if that’s how he wanted it to be, then fine. _Let’s see who’s the better player._  

      Game on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I put some explanations into this chapter with the backpack. Does it work? Does it not work? It's something that always bothered me in the game sooo.... yeah. 
> 
> There's a Sherlock reference in this chapter! Did you catch it?
> 
> Lyrics at the top are from ["Still Breathing"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OEw3aw5huc0) by Mayday Parade
> 
> Also, feel free to hit me up on twitter! @toomuchstressha


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SURPRISE BITCH, BET YOU THOUGHT YOU'D SEEN THE LAST OF ME//
> 
> Nope! I'm still alive! Finals are over(RIP) and I finally have time to write again. 
> 
> Here is chapter 5, and I deeply apologize for the extended wait. 
> 
> BUT it's not entirely my fault, at least...thats what I like to think. I'm co-authoring another p5 fic with the lovely [somnicordia](http://archiveofourown.org/users/hihazuki/pseuds/somnicordia), (whom Strings is dedicated to) called [Veni Vidi Amavi](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12379152/chapters/28160553), which will update ASAP. Check it out if you want!
> 
> Tiff deserves unending applause bc she is literal perfection in beta form~!!
> 
> Happy early Birthday to Ara, the most amazing bff a girl could ask for, I love your face!

_We're so young,_

_But we're on the road to ruin_

_We play dumb,_

_But we know exactly what we're doing_

_We cry tears_

_Of mascara in the bathroom_

_Honey, life is just a classroom_

* * *

      Akira pulled his coat tighter as he made his way towards Leblanc from Yongen-Jaya. It seemed unusually cold tonight. He tried not to take that as an omen. When he walked into Leblanc, he thought he was prepared. But the sight still made his heart squirm and his breath stop. Akechi stood behind the counter, looking totally content, with the green apron that Akira always wore tied around his lanky frame. He leaned on the counter, hands splayed in front of him as he spoke amiably with a customer seated in the nearest booth. He looked happy. It made Akira sick.

 _He should be happy,_ he thought bitterly, _MY life was happy._ The sudden acidic thought caught him off guard. Was this how Akechi always felt? Angry, bitter and envious, all the time? It was exhausting.

      He forced a smile onto his face and took his usual seat. Akechi returned his smile before politely ending his conversation with the woman and moving down the counter to lean in front of him.

      “Hey Kurusu.” His easy smile was frustrating.

      “Hello Akechi, how’re you doing this evening?” The sound of his own voice grated on his nerves.

      Akechi noticed the forced voice, too. With a smirk, he tossed a rag over his shoulder. “What happened to your devilish charm?”

      Akira placed his hands under his chin, raised an eyebrow and matched his smirk. “You think my charm is devilish?”

      Akechi’s eyebrows rose in return and a small smile played at the corner of his lips. He mirrored Akira’s stance. They were close enough, that for the first time, Akira realised that Akechi’s eyes weren’t brown. Sure, they appeared brown from a distance, but up close, he realized that they were more of a russet gold, flecked with tints of red and hazel. The light brown hair that hung in his eyes added to the effect. He only had the faintest bit of freckles that dusted just over his nose and barely under his eyes. They were so light that Akira never would’ve noticed if he hadn’t been paying such close attention.

      Perhaps he was getting a little too carried away with his observations, because Akechi suddenly looked away. Akira blinked and mentally reprimanded himself. That felt far too intimate.

      He leaned back onto the stool and surveyed the area around them. The woman in the booth that Akechi had been speaking to earlier was gone. He assumed that was what had demanded his attention.

      Akira registered that Akechi was speaking to him, but he didn’t want to think about it. All that occupied his mind right now was the ache in his bones and difficulty in keeping his eyes open. He didn’t want to think about how tired he was, or how much he wished he could walk up those stairs to _his_ room and collapse down on _his_ pillow and wake up in _his_ world.

      “Kurusu? Still with us?”

      He blinked, coming back into focus. Oh right, he was actually here for a reason, not to just make himself suffer. It was hard to remember that sometimes.

      “So, what would you like?” Akechi drawled. Akira realized that he had moved a bit farther down the counter, putting some distance between them.

      “I’ll have the usual blend, please.” He shot him a cheerful smile.

      Akechi nodded and went to work. A peaceful silence fell over Leblanc. Akira took the time to relax and unwind his tired muscles. His shoulder still hurt from the shadow earlier in the metaverse, and he swore that his heartbeat still hadn’t slowed after the accidental run in with the Phantom Thieves, even though it had been hours ago.

      The rain pounded against the windows, and the wind howled. Akira felt himself shiver. He hadn’t packed an umbrella. Stupid. It was going to be hell getting back to the apartment in these conditions. He could almost hear Morgana’s voice, reprimanding him for being so careless.

      Speaking of Morgana, the cat was noticeably absent. “Where’s your cat?”

      Akechi looked up from where he was brewing Akira’s coffee, “Oh, he’s at Futaba’s place tonight. I think he’s hoping that she’ll bring him back sushi or something…”

      Akira nodded as his heart began to ache, there was nothing that cat loved more. Although he had a suspicion that Morgana had also disappeared because Akechi wanted to deal with him without the pair of glowing blue eyes watching their every move. 

      Akechi placed the steaming mug down in front of him with practiced grace. It smelled of honey and kona beans. An interesting combination, not something that Akira would’ve originally thought to make. He brought it hesitantly to his lips. It was good. A surprising mixture of sweetness and tang. But it was missing something.

      “That’s a new combo I’m trying out,” Akechi said nonchalantly. “What do you think?”

      “I like it, although I feel it’s missing something.” He realized a moment too late that he wasn’t lying. Speaking the truth to his enemy was strange. It left a bad taste in his mouth, and played on his nerves, although he didn’t know why.

      “Yes.” Akechi said with a troubled expression. “But I’m not sure what else to add.” He fidgeted with his apron, looking a little lost. “Sojiro has taught me a lot, but I don’t know if I’m really as good as he tells me…”

      Sojiro. His name was like a knife in Akira’s heart. The older man had taken some time to open up to Akira; but when he had, Sojiro, Akira, and Futaba had created their own little family. That was another thing that Akechi had ripped away from him.

      In the wake of the sting, Akira realized that Akechi was also being honest with him. He plastered another smile onto his face, although he was almost certain that the other boy could see the pain behind it. “I’m afraid I don’t know much about coffee. What is missing exactly?”

      Akechi eyed him, and his smile slipped from his face. He leaned over the counter, and braced himself on his elbows. “I don’t know. Sometimes I find it hard to tease out the true nature of things. In order to know what it’s missing, I have to know it.”

      Akira raised an eyebrow and set the mug down between them. “Hm,” he said. “Seems difficult indeed. Have you tried doing research?”

      Something flickered behind Akechi’s eyes. “Yes. But there’s nothing really there.”

      This was making Akira tired. Games like this were always so taxing, and he wasn’t much in the mood since he’d drug himself through the door. It had been his original plan, but as soon as the familiar aroma hit him, he abandoned it. But now he thought back to what he heard the Phantom Thieves say in the metaverse. How Akechi was taking _such_ a great risk, simply playing the game.

      Damn him for being so competitive. It was going to be the death of him. 

      Akira gave him another smirk and rested his chin on his hands, and let his head tilt slightly to the side as he leaned forward. “Maybe you’re just not looking hard enough.”

      Akechi’s eyes widened **.** He pushed himself away abruptly and walked around the counter, scooping up the mug that was left abandoned by the woman in the booth. He returned to his spot in front of Akira, busying himself with cleaning it.

      He set the now clean mug down next to Akira’s half empty one. He leaned his elbows on the counter once more and studied Akira intently. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe, I need to devote more time to the study.”

      He was a lot closer than before. Akira became acutely aware of the sound of his heartbeat. Was it always this loud? He gripped his mug tighter. He had at least five witty comebacks on the tip of his tongue, but every time he went to speak, it was if they had vanished, leaving him with absolutely nothing. 

      Akechi gave him a crooked smile and moved back, putting respectable distance between them. “You alright, Kurusu? You’ve gone quiet.”

      Akira narrowed his eyes. _Damn you, Akechi._

      He forced the polite smile back onto his face. “Ah, yes, my apologies. I’m a bit tired tonight.”

      Akechi: 1

      Akira: 0

      Akira’s jaw locked. He’d lost this round. He let himself get distracted, allowed his overconfidence to get the best him. He idly sipped on his coffee, ignoring Akechi’s victorious smirk.

      Bastard.

      Akechi pulled a glass out of the cupboard.”Had a long day?”

      Before Akira could answer him, Akechi had set down a glass of ice water next to his mug. He didn’t bother to hide smug grin. “It’s on the house. You look a little thirsty.”

      Akechi: 2

      Akira: 0

      Akira felt embarrassment flood him as his face heated. Did Akechi just out flirt him? No way...It just wasn't possible... So this was how it was going to be. Fine. He couldn’t believe he’d let himself give Akechi the upper hand. This was proving to be more difficult than he originally thought. He was being too overconfident, too sure of himself. He needed to throw him off balance somehow...

      “Thank you.” This time the smile was real as he took a gulp of the water. Akira pushed the smile down as he saw Akechi’s falter. So the other boy could see the difference between his fake emotions and his genuine ones. Interesting.

      “So,” Akira began with a purr as he leaned on the counter. “This isn’t much of a fun date. We’ll have to reschedule to when you’re not working.”

      Akechi had his back to him, but his shoulders tensed and he paused on the glass that he was cleaning. He resumed his work a heartbeat later, but it was enough to tip off Akira that Akechi wasn’t as confident as he let on.  

      “I told you, this isn’t a date.”

      Oh, he’d struck a nerve. Akechi didn’t like the idea of being associated with him, but he had no problem flirting with him to try and gain information. Interesting indeed. He tried not to think of how alike they were in that moment.

      “Are you sure?” Akira let his smile seep into his voice. “You seemed to be enjoying yourself a minute ago.”

      Akechi set the glass down with a loud _clunk_. He turned to face him. Something akin to anger flickered behind his eyes.

      Akechi: 2

      Akira: 1

      “This isn’t a date.” He repeated, although he rested his arms on the counter and leaned forward slightly. “This is simply…”

      He trailed off, looking anywhere but Akira.

      Akira realized it wasn’t anger he’d seen, but agitation. Akechi was nervous? Well he was supposed to be getting information out of him...maybe he was frustrated? Akechi was living his life, but Akira still couldn’t read him. It was maddening.

      “Whatever you say, Akechi.” Akira finished his coffee and stood. “But regardless, I enjoyed your company. Perhaps we can do it again sometime, preferably when you’re not working.”

      Akechi met his eyes then, and Akira swore he saw a spark flash through them. If he didn’t know any better, he’d have almost called it… Hope? That made no sense. What was he hoping for?

      “I don’t know,” Akechi said. “I’m afraid I’ll be...busy for the next few days.”

      Yeah, busy taking on Okumura’s shadow and stealing the treasure. At least Akira had a hint as to where they were. They’d likely be done with the palace tomorrow if they started in the early morning.

      Well, nothing risked, nothing gained. He gave Akechi another devilish smile and leaned over the counter, his hand brushing his as he reached for some paper that Sojiro always kept beside the landline. “Alright, take this instead. This way we can keep in contact.”

      A faint blush dusted Akechi’s features as Akira scrawled his phone number from this timeline on the paper and shoved it into Akechi’s hands.

      “Um,” Akechi stuttered, gripping the paper tight and holding it back out to him. “I don’t think that’s necessary. Kurusu. I’m not sure this–”

      “Relax.” Akira grinned as he gently took ahold of Akechi’s hands and pushed them back towards him. “It’s not a date, remember?” He winked. “And call me Akira. Kurusu is so formal.”

      Akechi’s eyebrows rose into his hairline and he opened his mouth to respond, but words seemed to have failed him. Akira fought back his laugh. He looked like a gaping fish. It was actually somewhat adorable.

      Akechi: 2

      Akira: 2

      He strolled to the door, and cracked it open, staring down the storm. “Well, I’ll talk to you tomorrow! Good night, Goro.”

      He snuck a peek back at the counter. Goro had braced himself against the bar, looking down at the piece of paper clamped tightly in his hand.

      Akira pulled up his hood and stepped into the torrential rain. His embarrassment had been worth it. Goro Akechi was a worthy opponent. He’d have to play his part perfectly to make sure that he prevailed. He had shown his cards, and now it was time to deal a new hand.

* * *

      He was soaked to the bone by the time he got back to his apartment. If he was going to help them take on Okumura’s shadow tomorrow, discreetly of course, he’d have to stock up on supplies, and he couldn’t exactly go waltzing into Takemi’s clinic. No matter, he assumed that Akechi had been well equipped in his timeline, so that means that Akira himself had to have those connections now, right?

      He changed into some dry clothes and tossed the wet ones into the washer before flopping unceremoniously onto the couch. His head was beginning to hurt again. He really should invest in some painkillers. It was too damn quiet in this place, he missed the sound of Sojiro arguing with that annoying customer, Morgana complaining about possibly having fleas, the sound of the refrigerator humming, and the faintest rattle of the heating in his attic. Compared to all that, this apartment was dull and lifeless.

      Maybe he should get a cat...no, Morgana would never forgive him. Maybe a fish then? He let out a groan as his phone began to buzz. Only one person really called him, and he was not in the mood to deal with the world’s biggest bastard. But he had to be a good little puppet and play his part.

      “Hello?”

      “Have you made progress?” Shido’s voice was velvety smooth, hiding his forked tongue.

      Akira grit his teeth, willing down the temper that flared. “Yes. The target will be eliminated tomorrow, and our plan will be set into motion.”

      “Good. Contact Hashemzi for supplies.”

      “Yes, sir.” He hated the sudden burst of warmth beneath his skin, hated the way it made his head dizzy and his heart pound. This was how Akechi responded to the barest hint of praise? Was he really so deprived? Akira would almost pity him if he hadn't put a bullet through his head a few days ago.

      The call ended and Akira felt misery dig in its claws. He didn’t have time for this, he had to make sure he was ready for tomorrow. But then a memory came, one that he knew wasn’t his own.

      He was standing in an office, one that oozed status, power, and charm. Shido sat in the desk in front of him, looking no different than he did now. Akira glanced to a mirror on his left, starting at his reflection. Akechi’s frightened expression stared back at him. He was dressed poorly, nothing like what Akira was used to seeing him in, and he looked even scrawnier than normal. Akira concluded that he was barely fifteen.

      “So,” Shido began, “you claim to have this ‘gift’?”

      Akira gulped, anger tightening his throat, making it hard to speak. “Y-yes sir. I discovered it only a few months ago.”

      “What do you know of this cognitive world?”

      “I know what inhabits it, and that it’s possible to enter the cognitive world of others minds.”

      He felt hatred bubble as the glint in Shido’s eyes grew. “Excellent. I have a sort of...job offer for you. It won’t be easy, but it’ll cover everything for someone of your...background. I’ll assign you different targets, and you will… take care of them for me. What do you say? This is all strictly off record. ”

      Akira felt ready to spew fire. If Shido only knew the truth, that he’d just offered his son a job as a hitman. He would take this offer, then he would burn Masayoshi Shido to the ground. He would finally have his revenge, and after years of misery, he would prove just who was worthless in the end. None of them  would ever see it coming.

      “I would be honored.”

      The smile that Shido gave him was predatory, as if he’d just acquired a new toy. Akira would remember that smile until the day he died. Shido picked up the phone and dialed while instructing Akira to have a seat. Akira opened his mouth to speak, but then the memory dissolved before him and he found himself sitting on the floor of his too quiet apartment, doused in a cold sweat.

      He closed his eyes and fought to control his breathing. Shido was a monster that had to be stopped at all costs. Akira couldn’t wait to see the look on his face when he realized that it was Akira himself who had brought him down, when he realized that it was his own weapon that turned against him. It would be glorious. He would have his revenge, the Phantom Thieves would be no more, and everything would be right with the world.

      He groaned as pieces and fragments of different memories swam in front of his eyes. Some, he recognized from his own life, others, he knew to be from Akechi’s. He opened his eyes, staring at the wall. A memory in the onslaught stood out to him. It had been one of his, he was sure of it. It had been after they’d defeated Kamoshida. They’d gone to a restaurant to celebrate...and had decided to remain phantom thieves, and to help others who suffered from corrupt adults.

      How naive they had been, to think that they would actually make a difference, to think that it would all end without consequence. He should have ended everything before it began.

      No, those weren’t his beliefs… He had known the risks, they all had. These thoughts didn’t belong to him, and the drilling rage and hollowness in his chest wasn’t his. How long before he wouldn’t be able to tell the difference between them, until this timeline absorbed him completely? He was him, but he wasn’t him… he was who?

      He squeezed his eyes shut, blocking everything out. All of the memories and emotions, he would lock them away behind Joker’s mask. It was the only solution, the only way he’d be able to complete his mission without being assaulted by Akechi’s pain and anguish. He’d fight behind the mask and force himself through it if he had to. Anything to get back home, to alter time, and to restore what he had lost.

_My name is Akira Kurusu. I am Joker, the leader of the Phantom Thieves, and I will not be afraid._

      He gingerly picked up his phone from the floor and scrolled through his contacts until the name that Shido had mentioned earlier appeared. He pressed the call button. The man who answered had a wispy voice, quiet and reserved, as though he wasn’t sure of what he was doing, but Akira knew better. This man, aside from Akira himself, was one of Shido’s greatest weapons. Akira instructed him with everything he’d need for tomorrow, as well as a bottle of extra-strength pain killers and something a little more...potent, for a plan already forming in his mind.

      Hashemzi informed him that it would take until tomorrow for him to procure the unorthodox item he requested, and that he could come by the office tomorrow morning to pick it up. To Akira’s surprise, the old pharmacist didn’t ask any questions, and he suspected that he was legally unable to. They agreed on a time and Akira hung up without a goodbye.

      He pocketed his phone and ran a hand through his hair, attempting to tame it, before exiting the apartment and knocking on the door of his neighbor. A woman answered. Two toddlers swarmed around her feet, staring up at him with wide eyes.

      He painted on a worried smile as a name came to his mind. “Good evening, Ms. Tanaka, I’m so sorry to trouble you, but I seem to have misplaced my cell phone. I have a rather important call to make, could I perhaps borrow yours? I promise it won’t take long at all.”

      “Kurusu! It’s so nice to see you! It's been a while.” Her warm greeting was offset by the nausea amassing in his stomach and the guilt he felt gnawing at his insides. “Of course! You can! Just let me fetch it real quick!”

      She darted inside, leaving the two children watching him from the doorway. The guilt festered as the little girl gave him a big smile, exposing a missing tooth. Tanaka returned a moment later, handing him a phone. She gave him another smile, telling him not to run off with it before closing her door, allowing him some privacy.

      He grimaced as soon as she disappeared. He hoped this wouldn’t have any grave repercussions. Tanaka was a kind, hardworking woman. She was supporting two children on her own. But he couldn’t risk using his phone. There was too great a chance that Shido was monitoring his calls. He took a deep breath and dialed the number.

      “Hello? This better be an emergency for you to contact me on my private line.”

      “Hello, this is Akira Kurusu. I take it you’ve heard of me?”

      “...Yes, I have. What do you want? I haven’t requested your help this month.”

      “I’m aware of that. However, I was wondering if could request a meeting with you.”

      “I’m a very busy man, and I don’t have the time right now to deal with–”

      “ _Mr. Okumura,”_ He could hear the other man pause at his tone, could almost smell the hint of his fear. “I need you to listen to me,  _very_ , _very,_ carefully.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lyrics at the top are from [New Romantics](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ProAcxhPy1M) by Taylor Swift. 
> 
> Thoughts?


End file.
